Just One Eye
by Hindenburger
Summary: Au; may be a bit OOC. Dipper has the worst encounter with Bill, and now neither he or Mabel will be the same. Takes place in an AU where Weirdmageddon never ends. Rated T for horrific illusions and minor eye squick.


_**AN: Greetings. Hindenburger here. So, yeah, this is my first fanfiction, so please be gentle; I'm new.**_

 _ **This is a oneshot set in an AU I thought up, with one simple premise: What if Weirdmageddon doesn't end? So, yeah, everything turns to crap. Also, a few notes before you start, so you're not lost.**_

 _ **-Stan is killed by Bill via fire**_

 _ **-The whole bubble situation is Time Baby's fault (revenge for disintegration/pocket dimension relocation thing)**_

 _ **-Bill has a cult (the Billuminati)**_

 _ **-This one-shot takes place two years into the future (so Dipper and Mabel are 14)**_

 _ **Yeah, that's all you need to know. Maybe one day I'll actually make a full fic of this. Anyway, please disregard the wall of text, and enjoy.**_

* * *

 **Just One Eye**

Dipper was floating. Not literally, he assumed, but it felt that way. He felt as though he were laying on a cloud, with only mist holding him up; his limbs felt light and tingly and his head was swirling. He couldn't quite remember why he was floating, or where he had been before all this. It wasn't anything more than haze and a lingering sense of forgetfulness, of thoughts just out of reach but inaccessible. His hand twitched as though to reach for the memories, even as some part of his head warned him not to do it. The cloud was nice. He should stay on the cloud and not go hunting down what he didn't know.

But he was Dipper Pines, dangit, and Dipper Pines _needed_ to know. So he reached for the memories, for where he was before and where he was now. And right as he grabbed them, pulling them into his arms, the cloud disintegrated, dropping him into the cold touch of pain.

 _Mabel was dead beneath him, bleeding, but she was Bill. He was bleeding, knife jutting out of his stomach, Mabel grinning with yellow eyes. Stan was dead, nothing but ash, but then he was alive, begging for help. Soos was there too, organs spilling out, and Wendy. Dear, sweet Wendy—why, she couldn't take it anymore. That was simply the reason she did it; she couldn't stand life anymore, not with him, never with_ him.

Dipper jolted upright in the bed, eyes snapping open, and a wave of fear and pain rushed through his head. There was a scream caught in his throat and he could see nothing but darkness out of his right eye; he was faintly aware of the feeling of gauze rubbing against his forehead, pushing back his disheveled, dirt-caked hair. He was lying in a bed, wrapped in a blanket and soft, fluffy pillows. The walls were wooden and splintered and stained, with familiar spots of mold and posters on the wall. He knew this place…he knew it too well.

"Dipper!" that voice…oh God that voice, he knew it too. A person appeared before him, moving into his field of view. She looked just like him, but different, with relief in her eyes and a metal-filled smile. She wore a new sweater: red with a golden symbol on it of a weird pac-man like shape with a circle in front of it. He knew that symbol too; it used to be on a fez. "Oh my gosh, I'm so glad you're awake! When we got you out of there, I was so worried you were—I mean, I had to—" She bit her lip, looking guilty. "I hit you on the head pretty hard," she admitted. The smile returned. "But now you're awake, and you're back! I'm so glad you're okay, bro-bro!" She moved to hug him, arms wide open, wrapping around him. His head was over her shoulder now; her hair smelled of glitter glue and sweat.

It was Mabel. But it was Bill.

"Dipper?" she drew back, smile fading as she noticed he'd tensed up. "Dipper, what's wrong? Aren't you—aren't you happy? We got you out of there; you're home now."

"No I'm not," Dipper was vaguely aware that he was speaking now, in a low, hoarse whisper. "It looks like it, yeah. But I'm not."

"What…what do you mean?" she looked worried, confused. Scared, almost. Dipper mentally applauded him; this had to be the best one yet. "You're totally home, Dipper."

"It looks really good," Dipper glanced around stiffly. "Even the tiniest mold spots are there. It's really detailed." He shook his head. "I'm not fooled though. I know it's not real. I know I'm not here."

"Bro…Dipper…" she reached out a hand to touch his shoulder.

"Don't!" he drew back sharply, pushing against the wall. "Don't you dare call me that! Don't you dare try to be her! You're not!"

"Dipper, it's me! It's Mabel! You're really home!" she insisted, voice trembling.

"No you're not! Where's the knife, huh?" he demanded. "Where is it? How long are you going to wait before you stab me in the back with it? I know your tricks, Bill!" She looked stunned when he dropped the name. "I'm onto you and it won't work! Where's Stan? How long before he shows up? Are you going to kill him or will I have to?"

She fell silent; tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes. "Dipper…" her voice was low. "Stan's dead. Bill killed him."

"I know that," he nodded; why was she stating the obvious? "I saw it. But he was here two scenes ago, remember? He set himself on fire after Mabel killed herself." Her lip was trembling now and he took some satisfaction in watching her squirm. "Two scenes before that, Mabel killed him, and a scene before that, he and Ford strangled each other to death. You may have forgotten, but I haven't. So cut it out. Just kill me or possess me or kill her or whatever. Just-just-" Fury rose in him toward this Not-Mabel, toward this Bill construct. "Just don't you DARE keep pretending to be my sister! Torture me all you like, but don't you sit there and pretend to be her, to actually love and care for me, because that's one thing I hate more than anything else!" Horror replaced anger in a heartbeat. "No I-I didn't say that. Please don't, Bill, please don't be her. Please just kill me and end it now, but don't be her. Don't make me think that she's—that you're—" He swallowed, shaking now. He opened his mouth to speak again and was met with Not-Mabel slapping him full-force across the face.

He recoiled in pain, cheek stinging, and looked at her in shock. Tears streamed down her face and her expression was a mix of fear, anger, and sorrow. "Don't you…just shut up you…just…" she hiccupped, voice thick. She inhaled and let it all out: "Just shut up you big stupidhead because I am your sister, and I just risked my life getting your stupid butt out of trouble, and I love you very much, and I would never…I would never…hurt you or make you sad because you know how **_STUPID_** you get when you're sad and I have to cheer you up but I'm sad too and then Grunkle Stan would…" Her voice broke into sobs before it picked back up again. "…but he's gone and he **can't** drag your stupid butt out of trouble or get you to understand anything so I have to and I can't handle it…I _can't,_ Dipper, I thought I could but…and you…and you're…" She yanked him into a hug, her tears flooding down and wetting the back of his shirt. And Dipper sat there, both shocked and terrified, and Dipper realized.

And then he cried too, crying at how stupid he'd been and how scared he still was. And the two sat there for what felt like hours, clinging to each other and crying until the tears ran out and still they cried.

"I…I'm sorry Mabel," Dipper told her when they pulled apart, even as his mind rebelled at the thought of calling what was so obviously an illusion his sister. "I just…I thought you were…" he trailed off, unable to put into words what he'd seen. Fortunately, Mabel understood, patting his arm as she sniffed.

"It's okay, bro-bro. You just scared me there for a little bit," she smiled, but it was sad. Her eyes were still red and puffy. "Do you wanna talk about it or anything?"

Dipper fervently shook his head. "Not yet. It's all still…there. I saw a lot and I'll need time to forget."

"Okay. Well I can go ahead and get that gauze off your eye; it got kind of wet from all the, y'know, crying and stuff," she went to pull it away but Dipper pulled away sharply.

"No, wait. Don't. I," he paused, "think that's how they connected my mind to Bill's. They put some kind of glyph over it that lets Bill reach into my mind through the mindscape. That's how he let me...see stuff." He touched the wet gauze. "When I can't see out of it, I don't think he can reach me."

"Okay," Mabel drew back. "Well I'm going to leave you to rest; I need to get with Soos about fixing some of the broken pipes." She hugged him again, with far less resistance this time. "Love ya, Dip."

"Yeah," Dipper watched her retreat down the stairs, "love you too." He sat in the silence of the attic, sunset light flowing the window. He probed his head, finding there to be dried blood on the back of his scalp, presumably where Mabel had knocked him out. It was all coming back to him now: the invasion of the Shack by the Billuminati, dragging him away after ambushing him, tying him up in the Blind Eye's old base, leaving him to Bill's wrath, Mabel saving him. Mabel had risked her life and the lives of everyone else, storming enemy territory, all just for him.

Dipper groaned and fell back on the pillows, rubbing his face. God he felt like an idiot now, what with everything he'd said to her. He rolled on his side on the pillow, toward her side of the room, and stared intently at one of her multicolored posters until sleep claimed him.

* * *

His dreams were wild and scattered, replaying scenes from earlier endlessly in his head, interspersed with him groping blindly around a cave while hundreds of eyes watched and laughed. He woke after dark, with Mabel still missing. However, there was a plate of pancakes sitting on the table beside him, a fork lying on top of them and syrup right beside. His stomach growled; he hadn't realized he was this hungry.

Dipper sat up and grabbed the pancakes, forgoing syrup entirely and simply stuffing them down. Once done, he pushed the plate aside and sat there, feeling of the gauze over his eye. A dark, twisted part of him told him it was pointless to have it there since this was all another illusion anyway, but he pushed that aside. One finger pushed against where gauze met skin, sliding underneath, and a stray thought crossed his mind, a thought to test his theory and find out if it were true or not. He picked at the gauze while simultaneously picking up the fork, clenching it in his fist. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he peeled the gauze off of his eye and blinked.

He was somewhere else now: inside the Fearamid, a small, quivering figure beneath a massive throne of agony. Bill towered over him, as tall as he was in real life, even though the room was grayscale. **"Well well well,"** Bill purred and flicked a finger. Dipper felt himself become weightless, rising up to eye level with Bill. **"If it isn't Pine Tree, back for more. What's the matter? Real life too boring for you now?"**

"I…" Dipper found it hard to say anything, he was shaking too hard. Bill noticed and laughed.

 **"** **What's wrong, Pine Tree? Cat got your tongue?"** Bill held up a human-sized, flopping tongue, covered in cat scratches and oozing blood. **"I got it back for you. Here."** Dipper's mouth was forced open, jaw extending to a painful degree, and the tongue returned to his mouth, stitching itself back inside. **"Anyway, relax. These next few won't be so bad. In fact, they'll be quite soul-scarring, to the point where you'll question your own meaningless existence! Doesn't that sound fun?"** Bill waved a hand. **"See you in a few hours, Pine Tree! Remember to slaughter indiscriminately; everyone is out to get you, after all! Have fun!"**

He wasn't in the Fearamid anymore. He was in the front yard, outside the Mystery Shack; the grass was wet and the water soaked through his shoes into his socks. The Shack was on fire, thick plumes of smoke extending into the sky; he could smell the noxious fumes, feel them burn his throat and nose.

Stan was lying in the doorway of the Shack dead, fire covering his corpse and burning it away. Ford was slumped in the couch on the porch, glasses obscuring his eyes, blood pouring out of the bullet holes in his chest. Soos was half on the stairs, half on the grass, bleeding from the head; at best unconscious, at worst dead. Wendy was crushed under a fallen support beam, red hair fallen over her face. Dipper took it all in, fist still clenched, and took a step forward, towards the Shack. There was one missing, after all.

Something grabbed his ankle. He looked down to see Mabel lying on the grass in front of him, looking up at him. The fire had burned away her hair to nothingness, leaving a patchwork of burned black and gray skin across her scalp, and her face looked akin to melted wax, the features having been lumped and seared by the heat. One eye was completely covered by burnt skin now, her mouth a gaping hole, nose and ears gone. Her sweater was covered with ash and holes, her skirt burnt away to near nothing, her legs having had the flesh roasted off of them, nothing but weak muscle and bone now. Her one remaining arm was covered with blisters and burns, her fingers skeletal as she pawed at him. "Dippuh," she croaked out, throat torn, refusing to work. "Dippuh please. I dun wanna...I dun wanna be this. I dun wanna live like…this." She was so desperate; choking out the words like her life depended on it. "Dippuh dun save me…dun save me…let me die…" She shook her head weakly, grimacing he thought. Her eye was dimming slightly. "He wun let me die…yuh have to let me die…yuh have to kill me. Please. Please Dippuh. It hurts. Kill me." She was tearing up from her one good eye and gasped at the pain as it slid down her cheek. She shuddered for breath, chest hitching yet never falling still. "Dippuh…if yuh've ever loved me…then please let me die. Please stop the pain and kill me."

He knew there was a knife on the ground nearby, somewhere. He knew what Bill wanted. The smell of burnt flesh…the gasps of his sister as she was forced to stay alive through so much pain…He knew what he had to do.

"I'm sorry Mabel," he whispered, shaking his head. "I'm so, so sorry." Then he raised his clenched fist and slammed it over his right eye.

The illusion disintegrated and Dipper was back in the attic with a fork wedged in his eye. The pain was intense, but he didn't stop. He pushed the metal deeper, scraping it against bone. He pulled, tearing the soft tissue of the eyeball out, tearing it out of the socket. He could feel the nerve pull and he continued to pull, ripping the eyeball out with a shower of blood and fluid. He threw the fork down on the bed, his eye still oozing on its end, and curled in on himself in pain and terror. "It's over…it's finally over," he whispered, crying. "It's finally over."

And, despite all the pain and terror and that little voice in his head telling him it was still going on, even now, Dipper felt happy.

* * *

It wasn't until after midnight that Mabel was able to drag herself upstairs, completely soaked and exhausted. One busted pipe had turned into ten which had turned into the basement flooding, which took her, Soos, Candy, Grenda, and an entire bucket of super glue to fix. She was just relieved to have gotten it out of the way, and was now anxious to check on Dipper. He had really scared her earlier; even if he said he was okay now, there was no way to know if he was still hiding something. Those Billuminati jerks had obviously done _something_ to him, something to have hurt him this bad. It made Mabel angry; she wanted to go hunt down those jerks and make them _pay_ , because _no one_ hurts Dipper, not on her watch.

The door was still ajar, as she'd left it, and she entered to find it dark. "Dipper? Are you asleep yet?" He grunted slightly, which she took as a no, and she turned on the lamp on the table. "Well why aren't—" She turned to face him and immediately stopped where she was.

Dipper was sitting up against the back of the bed, knees cradled to his chest. There was blood flowing from the socket where his right eye had been and blood stained his cheek, shirt, and hand. Lying on the bed a little bit away from him was the fork she'd left with his pancakes. An eyeball was stabbed onto the tongs, part of the nerve hanging off the end, blood caked on it.

Mabel's last meal of pancakes and ice cream came surging back up and she had to turn to throw up in the trash. Wiping away vomit, she whispered, "Dipper…what did you do?"

He looked at her with a distant grin. "It's over, Mabel," he said with joy, his voice childlike; he sounded like he did when they were younger and he'd found an 'exciting' new mystery to tell her about. "It's finally over. He's gone. He won't bother me ever again."

"He…you…" she looked at the eyeball. She felt herself shake. "You did this? You did it to yourself?"

He nodded. "It was the only way. I had to stop him, Mabel," he insisted, as if he hadn't just _ripped out his own eyeball,_ as if nothing were wrong. "And now it's finally over. I'm happy." He was still grinning, but from far away, as if he saw some new, distant Eden she couldn't quite witness. "Aren't you happy, Mabel?"

Mabel felt a pit open up in her stomach. She knew with absolute certainty that things would be different from now on. That for whatever reason, be it the head trauma or whatever Bill had shown him, the brother she had known before all this wasn't coming back. He was still here, sure, but he'd never be himself again, not fully. He'd always be this stranger, lost in mad ramblings, questioning the reality around him, never quite as close as they'd been before all this.

Mabel sat down beside him, hugging him to her chest, trying to fight back the rising tears. "Yes Dipper," she said. "I'm happy."

* * *

 _ **Wow. I am apparently incapable of creating an AU without it being horribly dark and depressing. Oh well-at least this one doesn't have attempted suicide in it (I went through a lot of versions of this fic).**_

 _ **Anyhow, hope y'all enjoyed, and if you didn't, sorry to waste y'all's time. I'm open to feedback, so read, review, flame, and have a nice day.**_


End file.
